


Little Piece of Heaven Raising Hell

by Alexdoesthings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Fire, M/M, The Alpha Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexdoesthings/pseuds/Alexdoesthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're human Stiles, you can't protect us," Derek yelled.<br/>Stiles became still and everything about him screamed defiance as he said, darkly, "Want to bet?"</p><p>Derek didn't want to tell Stiles he hated him instead of what he really meant. He thought it would keep him safe, drive him away from danger. But now Stiles doesn't care if he lives or dies and he's taken his challenge to the the most dangerous pack of werewolves in Beacon Hills, the Alpha Pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Piece of Heaven Raising Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the song “Love Hate Relationship” by Trapt.

Stiles was right, of course, it was easy, so easy. Everyone fell into place just like he wanted them to; all the pieces on the board lining up just as they were meant to.

The Alpha pack surrounded him in full wolf form, growling and scratching at the earth. They howled triumphantly at their seemingly successful hunt, thinking their prey was utterly helpless and trapped. This was one of Stiles greatest assets in this fight, they completely underestimated him. The wolves didn’t move forward right away, not because they were scared of the seemingly scrawny and defenseless human but, because they knew who he was and whose scent clung to him and they wanted to toy with him now; take their time tearing him apart nice and slow.

Stiles had been picking the brains of Deaton, Lydia, Alison, and Mr. Argent for weeks to come up with this plan and it was entirely foolproof. With a little bit of stealing, a few lies, and a lot of late nights, Stiles had gathered what he needed and set everything up perfectly. Stiles knew his chances of surviving this weren’t great but he wasn’t that concerned; he had been over this more times than he cared to count. He knew his moves, his traps, and his plan inside and out.

Stiles hood was over his head and a mask covered his mouth and nose but even so he still caught Derek's scent wafting off the leather jacket he had been wearing the night before that now rested on Stiles shoulders. It strengthened his resolve and boosted his courage, despite his pounding heart. He stood in the middle of the perfect circle of lethal, snarling werewolves that could kill him as easily as squish a bug, holding nothing but a torch and a fistful of ash. Even so, Stiles smirked.

He threw the ash in a wide arc and closed the barrier before the wolves could react and reached down with the torch in the same movement, lighting the line at his feet. Flames burst into life, flaring up around him and right under the wolves’ paws. They howled in pain and surprise, leaping back with singed fur, and Stiles took off like a shot, hitting the next line without stopping, sprinting flat out.

 

 _The alpha pack was going to come for him if Stiles kept meddling like he did. Derek couldn't allow that; Stiles was his mate and Derek was willing to do anything and everything to keep him safe. To this end, he shut his heart down and did the only thing he could think to do. He stepped up to Stiles intimidating and growled, "Why are you_ _trying to_ _protect someone who hates you?"_

_He kept his expression stony even as his heart screamed at him to hold Stiles and smother the words into oblivion. A breath escaped from between Stiles lips like he had just been punched in the gut, his face went slack with surprise and then agony filled his eyes._

_“You’re only a weak little human. You couldn’t protect us anyway, Stiles_ _,” Derek said coldly, effectively brushing him off as he turned his back on Stiles and started walking away._

_“Want to bet," Stiles asked, a dark threat under his words and everything about him screaming defiance._

 

“Stiles,” Derek yelled desperately as he raced through the woods toward the smell of his mate among the alphas, his protective instinct urging him on faster. Their victory howls were cut short as over the hill there was a sudden flare of light and the crackling of flames. There was surprised yelping and pained howls as Derek crested the hill just in time to see Stiles darting through the startled alphas and the ring of flames. He hit the torch he clutched in one fist against a tree trunk that flared instantly into another sudden bout of flames, eating its way across the ground after Stiles in a zigzag that he effortlessly ran beside, never crossing it, never catching fire himself even though Derek could tell, even from where he stood, that it was hot.

Derek tried to run toward his mate but he was unable to push past the top of the hill. He looked down frustrated and saw the thin line of ash below his feet and something else, two sticks that were set up in an X formation that had been placed deliberately, Derek could tell by the scent, in this exact spot by Stiles.

Derek understood his mate and at that moment cursed Stiles for his genius. Stiles was truly brilliant, he knew Derek would be there, exactly where he stood, and that meant he planned this to be Derek's vantage point while Stiles proved his point and saved his pack. What made his blood run cold was that Derek knew whether Stiles himself lived or not was not really as important to his plan as proving Derek wrong.

 

Stiles was running flat out, possessed by his mission, adrenaline rushing in his ears, his muscle memory leading him exactly where he needed to go with no thought on his part. There was a broad grin across his face and he yelled, reckless and jubilant, into the air to mix with the growls and cries of the wolves and the crackle of the flames.

“Stiles,” Derek yelled again, desperately trying but unable to cross the barrier of ash as the alphas gave chase after his hyperactive lover.

Erica raced up the hill behind him and stopped to gape at the howling wolves and the destruction unfolding below, a faint breath of astonished amazement leaving her. Derek could feel how impressed she was by the wily human. Isaac and Boyd raced up behind her and Boyd was stopped short by the ash. He jolted back and when he got his bearings, stared at Stiles' handiwork with an awed, drawn out, “Wow.”

“What’s going on,” Isaac asked, mesmerized, watching the flames roaring up the trees as the smoke curled into the air and was pushed through the little valley. Stiles had planned that as well so the flames would spread faster and cut off the alphas escape entirely, not that they could get anywhere past the ash line. Stiles had thought of everything, every detail, even setting up their viewing spot upwind of the smoke.

“Derek’s little piece of heaven’s raising hell,” Erica answered smirking. She glanced over at Derek whose full attention was riveted on Stiles as the alphas rapidly closed the distance on him.

 

The alpha werewolves were catching up to him, Stiles could feel it. He wasn't worried though; all Stiles felt was exhilaration. Everything was working out perfectly.

He ducked under a fallen tree and weaved around a boulder, lighting the fallen tree aflame in his passing. An alpha hit it a second too late to realize its mistake and fell through it, engulfed in a ball of flame with an angry yowl. The others followed with angry growls for their hurt comrade, claws scrapping along the surface of the boulder. Stiles lit another line by his feet, trailing the torch just off the forest floor as it went up in flame. He was now running on a thin path through the flames on either side that twisted and turned through the trees dizzyingly and seemingly unpredictably but Stiles had no trouble keeping his pace and finding his footing through the heat haze. Stiles raised his torch and a rope net over his head caught flames falling just seconds after he raced out from under it, one of the alphas yelped as it got caught by the trap, but Stiles couldn’t look to see how effective it was, already lining up the next trap in his head.

One of the wolves caught onto part of his pattern and leaped onto the path in front of him. Fortunately, he’d been expecting this as well. The wolf leapt at him claws reaching for Stiles as it went airborne. Stiles slid on his knees in some kind of guitar slide. As he passed underneath it, he held his torch high to catch the underbelly of the wolf, which lit up like the Fourth of July from the oil he had slicked the boulders and trees with. The claws of the wolf just barely missed his neck as he slid but he jumped up and kept going with only a second’s delay. Another of the wolves ran in front of him but was suddenly hoisted into the air and off the path by its hind leg as it tried to reach him and set off the trap. He reach his torch out as far as his arm would allow and caught the wolf’s fur ablaze as it struggled, yowling pitifully.

 _Home stretch_ , he thought to himself as he bellowed an indistinct war cry into the open air of a clearing. He raced past the line of licking flames and lit the torches lined a set of trees. This was the really dangerous part he had to time just right before he either got his throat ripped out or was barbequed. He threw the torch he’d been carrying into the center of the clearing and another of the newly lit behind it, a little farther. He dropped one torch by his feet and grabbed another two. One of these he threw at the paws of the wolf that had just entered the clearing, almost finishing the circle that would seal their fate. The slow lighting line at his feet started to sputter.

The wolf jumped out of the way of the torch and gnashed its teeth angrily at him, half its fur burned off and showing off angry red skin. Stiles ran like the hounds of hell were on his heels, which to be fair they kind of were. He dropped the last torch and heard the line burst into flame, crawling across the entire clearing in less than ten seconds. Ten seconds he didn’t really have.

A set of claws caught at Stiles pant leg and he sprawled, still thankfully on the path, and hit his head hard against the ground. He was dizzy and disoriented but he had enough sense to grab onto the nearest tree root. The alpha tugged on his leg and Stiles almost lost his grip as his pant leg shredded from mid-calf down and his face scrapped against a rock. The alpha yelped suddenly as its backside caught on fire and turned from Stiles, distracted. The human used the opportunity to scramble up. He almost lost his balance and had completely lost track of the rest of the alphas and where exactly the end of the ash line was. He coughed from the rising smoke and the smell of burning clothing invading his lungs with a vengeance and knew he was running out of time fast.

 

The three werewolves were watched from the hill overlooking the scene, tense and frozen in a mixture of awe and horror. Derek knew what Stiles was doing a second before the last torch dropped and the clearing went up in flame. The area was perfectly positioned between two gusts of wind so it caught the flames and flung them around in a gargantuan flame tornado. He saw Stiles go down just as the flames burst forth and, even knowing he could do nothing to help, raced around the edge of the ash barrier toward him. He lost Stiles for a second in the heat haze but caught sight of him again as his mate started running blindly. Stiles was only a few yards from the ash line and with every second the flames grew higher and hotter and the other alphas closed in but Stiles was completely lost.

“Stiles,” Derek screamed his name as loud as he could over the roaring of the flames taking over the entire clearing. Stiles turned toward his alpha’s voice and shot, pell-mell, across the ground that he knew was not the path, but he couldn’t afford the time to find it again. He could hear the lethal whistle of claws through the air and the panting of the alphas’ breath behind him. He desperately put his arms up to protect his face and dove through the wall of flame, hoping his leap of faith would send him past the ash line. He hit the ground hard and rolled several times end over end. He yanked Derek’s hot leather jacket off and beat the flames on his pant leg out. The leather had faired pretty well all things considering.

Derek picked up his mate haphazardly and carried him hurriedly away from the ever growing heat of the fire. They reached the clean cool air on the other side of one of the ridges surrounding the valley and Derek patted Stiles down, removing most of his protective wear and checking for extensive damage as Stiles coughed the smoke from his lungs. His leg was bleeding from the alpha’s claws, there was a messy gash along his cheek from falling and being drug across a rock, and he had a number of minor burns across his wrists and neck, which had been exposed, but Stiles seemed to be perfectly fine besides. His eyes were alight with the adrenaline of just escaping death by the skin of his teeth and his entire expression was overjoyed. Stiles turned to look at the flames licking up the trees and gave a triumphant yell, pumping the fist not being scrutinized by Derek, into the air. Satisfied after a moment that none of Stiles’ wounds or burns was life threatening, Derek gathered Stiles to his chest and held him tightly.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek and relaxed, letting the werewolf take most of his weight. The adrenaline high was starting to wear off around the edges and Stiles could tell he was going to be hurting tomorrow.

“You almost died,” Derek growled, angrily but softly, in Stiles ear.

“I did it though,” he said smugly, “Point for team human.”

Derek squeezed him tighter for a second in reprimand at Stiles disinterest for his own safety then put his forehead against Stiles’. He repeated it slowly, annunciating carefully, “You almost died.”

“Almost only counts in horseshoes and grenades,” Stiles brushed it off with his usual bravado.

Derek’s eyes were fierce as he asked, harshly, “And what do you think I would have done if I’d lost you?”

Stiles met his anger with an uncharacteristic seriousness and breathed, “You’d have been fine.”

Derek pushed Stiles back to arms length to get a better look at him even though he could hear Stiles quick but steady heartbeat. Stiles eyes were resting on the ground and he refused to meet Derek’s eyes, his face unreadable.

“Don’t ever say that,” Derek snapped, rage boiling through his body uncontrollably so he was fighting the shift harder than he remember doing in a very long time so when he opened his mouth again, what came out almost entirely wolf, “Don’t even think it.”

“You have the pack,” Stiles insisted, “You don’t need me.”

“Never,” he murmured and his voice got harder, wanting to tear someone apart as he said, “say that again. Where did you get such a stupid idea?”

Stiles looked up at him and there was a strange deadness to his eyes and said, “You hate me, remember?”

Derek was frozen by the look on Stiles face and the fact that everything about him said really he believed it.

“Stiles, I’d die without you. I- I-” Derek tried but couldn’t drag the confession from his lips. He hadn’t meant a word he’d said about hating Stiles, not one, but he just couldn’t say what he really meant.

After a struggle, Derek decided words were useless anyway. He cupped Stiles bleeding face softly, despite his anger, and kissed him gently, slowly. Stiles was shocked by the tenderness of the action and it took him a second before he regained enough motor function to kiss him back. All the fear of losing his mate and being left alone again went into a desperate need to kiss Stiles and as soon as the human responded Derek’s kiss become one of passionate possession. Stiles had never been kissed like that before and he felt a bit light headed, though admittedly that could have been the smoke, but he really doubted it. Derek pulled back and breathed out a harsh breath. His eyes met Stiles and they seemed to be saying,  _get it now moron?_

Stiles closed his eyes and leaned into Derek, breathing his scent deeply. His arms were fast around Derek like the alpha would suddenly turn away or dissolve into dust at any second. Derek brushed his hand along the back of Stiles head, rubbing the soft peach fuzz covering his scalp and caught a lungful of the pure scent of Stiles underneath the smoke and blood.

“Maybe I should risk my life more often,” Stiles joked thinly into the silence. Derek smirked and shook his head at the comment because it was so Stiles.

They had both been tuning out the half human, half animal sounds of the alphas burning alive but there was suddenly a long, miserable howl that went up from inside the inferno. It was so pained and wretched, pulling so at the strings of all the guilt and sadness Stiles had ever felt in his life that, for a moment, Stiles went rigid, truly regretting what he had done. He was burning them alive; nothing should have to die that way. He was no better than Kate now and Derek would realize that any second, shove him away and take back everything that had just happened between them.

Derek instead pulled him closer and Stiles shook the thought away, shoved it deep inside the shadows of his soul and locked it away tightly. He had to kill them or they would have killed everyone he loved. It was kill or be killed and Stiles had had no choice.

“When I saw you go down,” Derek said quietly when the howl had trailed off, “and realized there was no way I could get to you, that's how I felt.”

Stiles shifted his head and glanced up at Derek, who was looking darkly back at the burning trees. Derek rarely admitted his weaknesses and having heard that howl and felt its anguish, Stiles realized, once and for all, how Derek felt about him. A small, affectionate smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he nuzzled Derek softly.

“Love you too,” Stiles muttered into Derek’s shoulder.


End file.
